Karma
by GeekyContradiction
Summary: A short little one-shot about karma and irony. Reunion fic!


**Disclaimer: Doctor Who would probably be a train wreck if I owned it.**

**Karma **

Rose sighed in exasperation once again as _another _Rhaxian fingered the wooden board- a price tag, she knew- hanging around her neck. Had she not been so familiar with the situation, she might have shouted at the man, but knowing that throwing a tantrum wouldn't do much to help, she remained silent. That is to say that she was quiet so long as the natives' hands didn't drift too far in the wrong direction, for the second she felt violated, her kidnappers would have a mini Jackie Tyler on their hands. Mentally tuning out the comments being made- she'd learned that aliens often had even less tact than the Doctor and that was saying something- she began trying to estimate when the Doctor would figure out that she was gone by running through the events earlier in the day.

She'd been rather rudely awakened by the Doctor's bouncing up and down on her bed like an overgrown five year old. After dealing with Mr. Energizer Bunny, she had thrown on some clothes and a pair of trainers, and headed towards the console room. From there, she had been informed that they were on the Plantary Confederacy of Rhaxia in the year 43,109 and pushed out of the Tardis doors, into a bustling marketplace of lilac-colored humanoids. The Doctor had grabbed her hand and walked ahead of her, occasionally stopping at the stalls to look at the merchandise, and began a historical and cultural lesson on the planet, informing her about the revolution that had occurred in 39,805 and the native people, dubbed the Rhaxians. He hadn't thought to inform her about the planet's highly patriarchal beliefs or the apparently popular market for prostitutes.

They had broken apart their clasped hands for a total of 30 seconds as he gestured to some sort of musical instrument, and that had been the chance the scouts had needed. One second she was listening to one of the Doctor's lectures and the next, she was lying on a cold, hard metal floor that smelt of bodily fluid. Her kidnappers had returned to her cell mere minutes after she woke up and given her a set of "bindings" for her to change into before leaving her alone to get dressed, for that, at least, she'd been thankful. They might be selling her as a concubine, but at least they had the decency to let her enjoy her modesty while it lasted. The white bindings were nothing more than a strip of fabric to cover her chest and a pair of- what she assumed were-shorts. The fore-mentioned wooden board had been hung around her neck and her wrists bound in shackles as she was joined to the rest of the trade.

Knowing the Doctor, he probably wouldn't even notice her absence for a couple more hours, and then come to her rescue within another hour of the discovery. Of course, she wasn't exactly concerned about escaping otherwise. While being brutally dragged through the slums of the marketplace, she'd noticed that her guard favored his right leg, a tell-tale sign of a current or previous injury on the opposing leg. If worst came to worse, she could use the chain as leverage to overtake him, but as it was, she wouldn't risk taking the far larger man on.

She vaguely heard her identifying number said and returned to reality to figure out exactly what her plan of action would need to be. Her dealer was haggling with a big burly man over, "the pale one," which undoubtedly meant her, compared to the rest of the women on the chain. As it seemed that the two men were reaching an agreement, she mentally prepared herself to execute her escape plan, until she heard a buzzing sound behind her. Nimble fingers grasped her wrists and the faint sound of the sonic screwdriver continued until she could feel the metal clamps loosen. Turning as inconspicuously as she could, she wriggled her hand out of the cuffs and with the final confirmation that the dealer and the man had settled her price; she grabbed the Doctor's hand and ran. Once they were a safe distance away, she turned to the pinstripe-clad Time Lord before her and they broke out in laughter. No words were exchanged as everything was understood in the giggles. He'd been worried, had missed her, had thought that he'd lost her, and she was glad to see him. Then, once again, they turned and ran.

The Doctor twisted his wrist in a vain attempt to reach his sonic screwdriver, wincing as the sharp metal dug into his skin. Finally, he gave up and, not for the first time, wished that he had someone there with them. Then he shook his head, as if that would dispel the train of thought he was on. Those sorts of thought always led him back to Rose and Canary Wharf. Those were dangerous thoughts.

He'd lost her. After two years of begging whatever deity may have actually existed for an eternity with her, he'd lost her. Just add that to his list of reasons to hate the Daleks and the Cybermen. It had been about a year since his last goodbye and he still missed her, occasionally waking up from nightmares about the Time War calling out for her, proof that he hadn't destroyed everything good in the world, only to be met with silence and the creeping realization that she was gone and he would never see her again. There were also the nights where the dreams would be about her, her screaming at him, calling him foul names that he knew he deserved. She would tell him that he hadn't looked hard enough to bring her back, or tell him that she didn't even want to come back. He didn't know which was worse.

However, he knew with certainty the ones that would plague his mind, awake or asleep. They were the memories. He would see and hear her calling his name as she fell toward the void, saved only by the appearance of her parallel father. Then, he would be standing there on the beach that would haunt his dreams for the rest of his lives. He would be forced to watch their goodbye until he faded, declarations of love still stuck in his throat, unable to come out despite everything.

Suddenly, he was shook out of his reverie by a very familiar voice. His eyes snapped open and he madly searched the crowd, hope just barely flickering to life in his chest, before, based on the rather depressing absence of his pink and yellow human, deciding that he was just finally losing it. Realizing the irony of the would-be situation, though, he chuckled dryly. How many times had she almost been sold as a concubine or slave? It would only be fitting that her memory drive him insane in the very same situation. He returned to his thoughts before he heard it once again.

"Excuse me." A flash of blonde bobbed through the crowd before distinguishing itself-or rather herself- as the one and only Rose Tyler. He blinked several times and rubbed his eyes in confirmation, ignoring the pain from the metal cuffs. He wanted to call out her name, to hear her respond as the final nail in his proverbial coffin, but the words were stuck in his throat. As he watched, panic- never mind confusion- obvious on his face, she weaved through the crowd and away from him towards the dealer. She exchanged words with the woman in charge of the market, handed her something he could not see, and then turned back in his direction. Within moments, it was fairly obvious that she was heading towards him, and a smug smile lit up her features as she properly identified him among the men being sold.

She continued right until she was standing a couple of metres in front of him, and he regained his ability to speak. "I love you." He wasn't quite sure if the words were out of relief that she had returned or just the fact that they had been delayed so long, but it didn't matter.

Her smile widened, "Karma sucks." And with that, she grabbed the link in his handcuffs and dragged him away.

"Are you going to get me out of these things?" Rose pretended to think about it before shaking her head, and continued pulling him through the market, to the Tardis. They, or rather she, opened the door with the key around her neck and then…they ran.

* * *

**Author's Note**

**This is really just a one-shot I've had stuck in my had for a while.**

**Question of the One-shot**

**Do you think that you are introverted or extroverted?**


End file.
